


Journey to Be

by mezzo_cammin



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, mcshep_match
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mezzo_cammin/pseuds/mezzo_cammin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post series. Atlantis is finally going back to the Pegasus Galaxy, come hell or high water. First, though, Rodney McKay has to figure a few things out. Lucky for him, he has a little help along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Written for McShep Match 2012 for the prompt, "The Whole Nine Yards".

T-90 days

It began, as so many things in Rodney McKay's life did, with a question.

That this question was not the ordinary, "Hey, Rodney, how can we...?" or the ever-popular, "Rodney, what do you think would happen if we...?" posed by one of his colleagues, made it seem, quite wrongly as it turned out, innocuous.

This question, posed as it was by his girlfriend as she came to an abrupt halt in front of a display of what looked like various combinations of leather straps and life-like dildos, was asked in a spirit of fun and sexual adventuring, the same spirit in which they'd decided to visit Good Vibrations, one of the city's better-known and highly-recommended sex shops. Rodney had no idea, none at all, of how his life was about to change.

"Would you mind if we tried something like this?" she asked, mouth curving up sweetly as she gestured at the display.

See? Simple question. Would he mind...?

"I –" He tilted his head sideways, mentally tracing the jumbled straps into their individual harnesses, seeing how they would fit around a smaller frame and allow the wearer to position the dildo so they could...oh. Ohhh. Hmmm. Had he been more self-aware, perhaps, the simultaneous rush of blood to his cheeks as well as to his heretofore quiescent dick would surely have been a clue of Things to Come, but Rodney was, well, Rodney, and so he ignored them both, put an arm around Jennifer's shoulders, hugged her to him, and said, "Sure. Why not?"

He was rewarded by her pleased smile. They spent the next several minutes debating the merits of leather versus vinyl and silicone versus glass, all the while exchanging delighted smiles and carefree touches.

Afterward, they had coffee and biscotti at a trendy little bistro, wandered hand-in-hand around the tourist traps, rode the trolley, did all the things one does when visiting San Francisco for a romantic weekend with one's significant other, and never once did Rodney think about what the repercussions of that one insignificant question might be.

Indeed, it wasn't until much, much later that evening, when he lay spread-eagled on the bed, Jennifer's exhausted body draped over him, their mingled sweat and come drying on his skin, his ass stuffed so fucking, wonderfully full, that Rodney had an Inkling.

 

T-75 days

"So, you like it when she fucks you? So what?" Radek pushed his glasses up a little higher on his nose and returned his attention to the Ancient database as Rodney loomed over his shoulder. They'd only found this particular terminal yesterday, as they were (for the eleventh time and counting) going through Rodney's detailed and exhaustive pre-flight check of Atlantis, with the new addition of a manual inspection ("Do you trust the city's internal sensors, Radek? Because I don't.") of the stardrive pods. Radek had had to concede Rodney's point when they'd stumbled onto this terminal, tucked into a side corridor off a supply ramp leading to what looked suspiciously like a weapons cache of some kind. The entire science team had set up camp there last night, testing, theorizing, taking readings, arguing over the results.

Now, eighteen hours later, it was just the two of them, and Rodney's insistence that he had seen 'something unusual' in this part of the Ancient logarithm was the only thing keeping them there. Well, that and Rodney's inexplicable need to consult Radek about his sex life.

"There it is again. See?" Rodney's index finger hovered over the scrolling text and Radek frowned. He hadn't seen it before, no, as many times as he had gone over this particular bit of code, but there it was now, as plain as day. And it meant –

"What do you think it means?" Rodney was connecting his second-most secure laptop to the database and downloading the troublesome segment onto it. He was already entering lines of code that would act as a firewall, isolating the Ancient code until they could figure it out.

"I don't know, Rodney. I have just seen it. I have no idea yet if it is an address or formula or –"

"No, not this," Rodney said. "Clearly, this is a blueprint of some kind, and, if I'm not mistaken, it's some of Janus' work. Very elegant. Question is, what, exactly, is it for, and why was it here?"

"So, what does what mean, then?"

"The other thing. You know, with Jennifer." Rodney handed the laptop over to Radek and Radek took a moment to study the firewall code.

"Yes. Looks good," he said, and handed it back. Try as he might, Radek had never quite rid himself of the thrill it gave him when Rodney showed, offhandedly like that, how much he trusted him. He'd learned the hard way that Rodney's words and Rodney's actions meant two different things, and it was the actions you had to pay attention to and not so much the words. Mostly.

So now, as they gathered up their cords and scanners and made the long trek back to the lab, Radek gave Rodney's actions some thought. Obviously, Rodney was questioning the nature of his relationship with Jennifer, as he often did, and this was yet another means for him to doubt himself, to obsess over his behavior, to worry. He was probably just seeking some form of reassurance, although why Rodney felt that he was the go-to person for that, Radek had no idea.

"Well," he said, considering his words carefully, "Maybe you are overthinking this, Rodney. Perhaps it just means you like to be fucked in the ass. Is no big deal."

Unfortunately (or, perhaps fortunately, one never knows), Radek's words were spoken just as they rounded the corridor leading to Rodney's lab, where, standing in front of the door and obviously waiting for them to return, were Colonel Sheppard and General O'Neill.

There was a moment of stunned silence as Radek's words hovered in the air like recently deployed stink bombs, and then General O'Neill clapped his hands together in front of him, smiled brightly, and said, "So. How's that preflight thing coming?"

"Yeah. About that," Rodney said, and led the way into the lab. General O'Neill followed him in, Radek right on his heels.

Colonel Sheppard took a moment.

When he joined them, half-way into Rodney's cautionary spiel on the suspicious code they'd just discovered and what it might mean to the stardrive and how they should delay Atlantis' return to the Pegasus galaxy until they knew for sure whether it was good, bad, or indifferent, Radek could feel Colonel Sheppard's gaze resting speculatively on him.

Oh, yes. There would be questions after class.

 

T-60 days

"Rodney, we need to talk."

Rodney looked up from the blueprints and notepads and markers scattered across the conference table in front of him and saw Jennifer standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, cradling a thick manila envelope. She looked sleep rumpled, and the circles under her eyes betrayed long hours of tossing and turning.

"Oh. Hi," Rodney said. He recognized that envelope. A matching one was resting in his briefcase, the contract inside it already signed and notarized, ready to messenger back to Stargate Command.

"Can I come in?"

It was late. Early, rather. Rodney yawned and raised a hand to cover his mouth, absently scratching at the stubble on his jaw. The meeting was scheduled to start in an hour, and he had absolutely nothing new to report. Zilch. He needed a shower, a shave, maybe another espresso or three.  
The look on Jennifer's face, though, sad and determined and fond, brought him up short, and he sighed heavily. He wasn't ready for this. He just wasn't.

"Please, Rodney?" she said, and he straightened his shoulders, nodded, forced a smile.

"Sure. I could use a coffee," he said, and held out his hand. She took it, and they wandered hand-in-hand down the dimly lit hallways of Atlantis for what Rodney knew would probably be their last time as a couple. It wasn't just the 'We need to talk,' thing, although that never boded well, did it? No, despite his being more preoccupied than usual, he'd seen the signals, read them in her body language, in the slow withdrawal of intimacy, and ignored them all in the hopes she'd change her mind. But, no. Jennifer wasn't coming back with them. She'd hinted, and he'd scoffed. She'd tried to talk to him, earnestly tried, and he'd been too busy to listen, until she'd finally resorted to sending an e-mail, with bullet points, which he'd deleted, unread. He knew she had her reasons, knew they were good ones, excellent ones, even, personal and professional and well-thought out, and he would never, ever understand them. Or her. Or anyone else, for that matter, who had been offered this incredible opportunity and turned it down. And, in Jennifer's case, turned him down as well.

They took their coffee from the mess hall and went to Jennifer's quarters. Her bags were on the bed, half-packed, stacks of clothes and journals scattered around. Rodney tried not to think of the last time he'd been there, the last time he'd made love to her on that bed until she had screamed her pleasure and then melted against him. He'd asked her, haltingly, if she'd mind doing it again, with the – because he was still hard, and it – he'd needed – and she'd panted and said sure, give me a second here, Rodney, and then she'd strapped it on and fucked him, and he'd finally come, jacking himself off to the rhythm of being fucked. He'd wanted more, something...other, not knowing what that was, only that he'd needed it.

Had that factored in her decision? He wondered, but he wouldn't ask, didn't think she'd tell him, even if it had.

They put the coffee cups down on the table, and Jennifer simply stood and stared at him until her face crumpled, until he held his arms out, and she went into them, held safe while she said the words that ended their relationship. Rodney could only stroke her soft hair and rock her as she murmured and sniffled, until finally she looked up at him and it was his friend, his dear friend, no longer his lover, who smiled at him through her tears and told him she was sorry and meant it.

Rodney would never really understand her, no, but he wiped her tears away and kissed her cheek, her mouth, her swollen lids, swallowed back the lump in his throat, and forgave her.

Leaving her room a little while later, Rodney glanced at his watch and swore. The shower and shave would have to wait. Already, his mind was returning to Janus' code, to the blueprint of what they were beginning to think might be a weapon of some kind, if they could just unlock the Ancient transla– oh, of course! Rodney stopped short in the hallway, fingers snapping rapidly as his mind raced on ahead of him. That's what they needed. Not another engineer or scientist; no, they needed a linguist.

 

T-45 days

This was his life. Making sure all of his department's requisitions were sent in, received, and catalogued. Double- and triple-checking that they would have the latest technology, and backups for that technology, and the tools for good old-fashioned jury-rigging if the backups failed. Eat, sleep, repeat. Call his brother. Be fitted for new uniforms. Make more lists. Calibrate and recalibrate the new equipment. This time, Radek was determined, this time they would be prepared.

Right now, though, he had to find Rodney, because wherever Rodney was, the new linguist would also be, and Radek had a question for Dr. Paulo Santoro. The man was quite the talk in the cafeteria these days. Brilliant in his field, obviously, or Daniel wouldn't have recommended him, and Rodney would never have accepted him onto the team. No, it was his tanned, fit body, the swirls of tattoos peeking out from his casually ripped t-shirts, the tongue and nipple piercings, that had everyone all agog. That, and the fact that Paulo and Rodney were spending so much time together, had caused more than one tongue to wag. Radek knew, of course, that Rodney and Paulo had to work hand-in-hand, as it were, peeling back layer after layer of fail-safes and coding booby-traps that Janus had interwoven this mysterious blueprint. With each one they conquered, Rodney's excitement level increased, along with his determination to break the code. He was convinced this was big. Very Big. He could be convinced of no other reason that Janus would have made it so difficult to decipher. Radek's tongue-in-cheek suggestion that perhaps it was merely Janus' secret diary had met with little amusement on Rodney's part.

Having experienced Rodney's intense focus when problem solving in the past, Radek thought nothing of it. However, he had surprised a look of hero worship on Santoro's face, more than once, and Radek was afraid that the younger man was mistaking Rodney's interest in his skills as an Ancient linguist for an interest in him, personally. It wouldn't have been the first time it had happened. Radek was, once again, planning to run interference, if necessary. Just a nudge, a friendly word of advice.

"Looking for McKay?"

Radek glanced up from his Booklet in surprise. He'd been so busy multitasking that he hadn't noticed Colonel Sheppard approaching him from the direction of the labs.

"Yes. I was just going to –"

"Yeah. I'd give 'em a minute, if I were you," John muttered, and strode on past him. Radek stared after him, startled at the harsh tone and the rigid set of his shoulders.

Curiosity aroused, Radek quickened his pace and nearly skidded to a halt in the doorway of the lab. Oh. Well. No wonder Colonel Sheppard had seemed upset.

Rodney was slumped on a stool, facing away from the door, his chin tucked into his chest, hands resting on his thighs. Behind him, very close behind him, was Paulo, giving Rodney's broad shoulders a thorough rubdown.

Radek cleared his throat, and Paulo turned his head and motioned him in. Rodney didn't stir.

"What did you do to him?" Radek asked, frowning.

Paulo grinned and went back to massaging Rodney's back.

"He fell asleep like this. Imagine the crick in his neck when he wakes up, yes?" Paulo shrugged, totally nonchalant, "So, I thought I would, mmm, how do you say? Give him a hand?"

"Nice of you," Radek said mildly.

"It's how I paid my way through college," Paulo said, and winked.

Radek stared at him, at a loss for words.

"Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Radek," Rodney said, straightening his shoulders and giving his neck a roll. "Santini's a professional masseuse when he's not busy trying to solve Ancient decoder rings."

"Oh," Radek said, and blinked.

Paulo laughed softly, patted Rodney's shoulder, and went back to one of the many laptops connected in a daisy chain on the table. Rodney slid around on the stool to face Radek, eyebrows raised.

"Did you need something, or did you just drop by to –"

"Oh, my God!" Paulo shouted suddenly, reeling backwards from the table.

Rodney and Radek shared a concerned look and hurried to his side.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Is that –? What did you do?"

On multiple linked screens, diagrams were opening up at a rapid pace, charts were coming into and out of view, and schematics were layering one on top of the other, all in a geometrically patterned, color-coordinated array. The three of them watched, transfixed, until the entire plan came into focus, until there before them was the vision of a stained glass, round based, multi-faceted zero point module.

"Oh. I...!" Radek could not look away, and he could not find his voice.

"Is that what I think it is?" Paulo's voice was shaking.

And Rodney, confronted suddenly with the answer to all of their prayers, the holy grail of all holy grails, turned not to the person who had helped bring this about, but instead, one hand grasping Radek's shoulder like a lifeline, his other raised to his radio, Rodney was saying, "Sheppard? John? John, you need to get over here, right now! You're not going to believe this...!"

Radek let Rodney's excited chatter slide over him as he turned and watched the sudden understanding dawn in Paulo Santoro's eyes. He felt, perhaps, a small pang of sympathy for the man.

 

T-44 days

"Hey, Rodney?" John Sheppard's voice sounded in Rodney's ear just as he was toweling himself off, fresh from his morning shower.

"Yeah?"

"I, uh..."

"Yes? What? I'm getting dressed here," Rodney glared down at his dick. Seriously? Today it wanted attention? He had so many things to do today, so many amazing, ZPM-making related things, the last thing he had time for right now was his lonely dick.

"So, that thing? Last night?"

Rodney paused in the motion of pulling on his t-shirt. There had been a thing last night? He frowned.

"Um-hmm?" Maybe the noncommittal hum would work. Maybe John would clue him in some time before his second cup of coffee. Maybe –

"You're okay with it, right? I mean, uh – I realize the timing was probably bad, but –"

"John," Rodney said, accidentally brushing his forearm against his cock as he reached across the bed for his boxers. Damn. He glanced at the clock. Not yet six a.m. "Busy man here, ZPMs to build, remember? What is it you want to know, exactly?"

"Well, Rodney," John's voice went all deep and growly, as it did when he was pissed at Rodney, and Rodney’s dick was definitely not taking no for an answer now. Great. Where had he put the lube? "What I want to know is if you’re mad about what happened last night. After the party. When we got back to your room, and I – well. You know."

"You...?" Ah. There it was. Okay, good. Lube, hand, cock. Yes, please. What John didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Rodney settled back against the pillow and took his cock in one hand and his balls in the other.

"You don't remember?"

"I'm not sure that I do. Oh. Oh, wait." Rodney's hand stilled. There had been a lot of drinking and celebrating. A lot. There had been a jelly-legged walk back to his quarters, and he'd been leaning against the door while someone felt him up. Held him up. There'd been laughing, and stumbling, and I-can't-believe-it-can-you? and then, suddenly, there had been a mouth. On his ear. Teeth grazing his neck. Maybe a lick or two. He didn't remember a mouth on his lips, though. He'd remember that, surely, wouldn't he?

"Yeah, okay, it's coming back to me now," Rodney said, and squirted a little more lube right behind his sac so it ran down onto his hole. He liked a lot of lube when he fingered himself. Fuck, he was hard. Apparently, John had nuzzled his neck last night, and Rodney had liked it. Liked it a lot.

"So, we're okay, then?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine, Sheppard," Rodney said, biting his lip as he sped up the pace of his stroking. "We're good. No harm, no foul."

There was a long pause. A soft sigh. "Good. I'm – that's good, then. Okay," John said, sounding really relieved. Rodney wanted him to keep talking, just a little bit more, because he was getting close, already. That was just a sign of a very neglected dick, right?

"So – have you heard anything more from the Council on the elections?" Rodney asked, although he knew the answer. He’d read the memo. He just wanted...needed...

"Yeah," John said, and Rodney listened to him talk about the jerks on the Council and how Woolsey had finally lost his cool and given them a verbal spanking. Rodney h’mmed at the appropriate (he hoped) moments, and eventually had to stifle a groan as he came all over his wrist and palm.

"What was that? You okay?" John said, voice sharp.

"I’m fine. Just bent over to tie my shoes. So. Meet me in the mess?"

"Yeah, okay. See you there."

Rodney went back to the bathroom and stared at his reflection for a long moment before washing his hands and splashing cold water on his face.

Epiphanies can come at the strangest times, he decided, and went to meet John for breakfast.

 

T-30 days

"Rodney? May I ask you something?" Radek placed his tray on the table next to Rodney's and scooted the chair out so he could take a seat. Rodney barely glanced up from the schematic on his laptop. There was an empty cup of coffee beside him, which Radek switched out for a piping hot one. Rodney was at a corner table, back to the wall, clearly busy, hunched-over body language screaming 'leave me alone', and yet Radek ignored all of this as he unloaded his tray and peeled the top off his pudding cup.

"Hmmm?" Rodney took a sip of the coffee, realized it was hot, and looked at Radek, startled gratitude in his eyes.

"I said, may I ask you a question?"

Rodney snorted. "Since when do you need permission to –"

"This is a personal question."

"Oh."

"So –?"

Rodney's thumb went into fiddle mode, rubbing over his fingers, and he eased his chair to the side so he could look at Radek full on.

"Fire away."

"Is it true you are dating men now?"

"What? No! Maybe? Who told you that?"

Radek just looked at him.

Rodney narrowed his eyes. "It was Cadman, wasn't it? Just because I ran into her at a gay bar, totally by accident, by the way, it's not like it had a neon rainbow sign or anything, and what, by the way, was she doing there? I should have –"

Radek kept looking at him, expression carefully neutral.

"Okay fine, yes, I might have wondered if, maybe, you know, because of the strap-on thing, and that thing with John, whether I might –" Rodney swung a finger like a metronome.

Radek shook his head, puzzled. "Might what?"

"You know. Swing both ways. Or something."

"And do you?"

"I don't know! I left before I could find out." Rodney pushed his plate away and sighed. He looked oddly bereft.

"Rodney, maybe –" Radek sliced his meat into precise squares as he searched for the right words. This was more difficult than he had anticipated. Then the penny dropped.

"Wait. What thing with John?"

"Didn't I mention that?" Rodney was fiddling with his pen and looking out the window at the ocean.

"No, I think I would remember if you had mentioned something about a 'thing' with John." Radek said.

"Oh, well, you know, it was nothing, really. Just a little thing. Sort of a, maybe a little groping between friends, after the ZPM party."

"I see," Radek said, not seeing at all. "And then what?"

"Nothing," Rodney said, moving the pen between his fingers like a magician with a quarter. If anything, he looked even more forlorn than he had earlier. "Nothing at all."

"Hmmm," Radek said, thinking. He could feel Rodney's eyes on him as he carefully separated his peas from his carrots into individual little piles and took a sip of his coffee. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John Sheppard making his way through the cafeteria line. So. Time was running out.

"Maybe, Rodney," he began again, and leaned forward, lowering his voice so that Rodney had to learn forward as well to hear him, "Maybe you do not have to look in gay bars to find someone who is interested in you, yes?"

"What does that mean? What do you know?" Rodney had lowered his voice, too, hissing the words, his fingers clutching at Radek's knee.

"It's not what I know, Rodney, it's who. I am just saying that sometimes what you are looking for is what you already have, yes?"

"Damn it, Radek, would you stop talking in circles? Who –?"

"Colonel Sheppard," Radek said.

"Hey, you two! Am I interrupting something important?" Sheppard slid his tray onto the table opposite them but hesitated before pulling out a chair.

"No, of course not," Rodney huffed. "Radek was just telling me a joke. You know. As he does." Rodney's glare could have cut through ice. Radek shrugged and began putting everything back on his tray.

"It was not a joke, Rodney," he said. He smiled politely at Sheppard and stood. He opened his mouth, started to speak, then closed it. No. He would say no more. They would have to figure the rest out for themselves. He was not their shadken, after all.

Oh, fine, what the hell.

"Trust me," he said, to both of them, and left.

 

T-21 days

Rodney didn't have time for this. He had a city to get ready to fly back to a distant galaxy, damn it. His checklists had subsidiary checklists, which had footnotes, and he really, really, didn't trust anyone else to make sure that everything was being taken care of in the order he wanted it done. Sleep was becoming a distant memory of something he used to do when he had time. Now, whenever he flopped, exhausted, onto the nearest horizontal surface, he'd think of something to add to the back-up checklist and pop right back up to make a note of it. Christ. He'd sleep when they got back home.

And yet, here he was, pacing outside of John Sheppard's quarters at nine p.m. on a Saturday night, armed with a bottle of champagne and wearing his least-wrinkled khakis and a soft blue polo shirt. He was six kinds of a fool, and it was all Radek's fault for planting that seed in his mind. Once planted, though, it had germinated, taken root and now tendrils of it were reaching for the sky, taking his doubts and second thoughts right along with them.

Finally, driven to distraction by thoughts of what-ifs and maybes and John, Rodney had set aside three precious hours last night, much against his better judgment, and given the matter his undivided attention. He'd looked at the available data (all five-plus years of it) and drawn conclusions.

He'd set parameters and tested his theories. There might have been a graph. Or two.

That he had tested his final conclusion by jerking himself off while imagining his best friend and one-time-only groper, John Sheppard, pushing him up against a wall, yanking his pants down and fucking him raw was the very reason he stood here now, palms slightly sweaty, calling himself all kinds of a coward and an idiot to boot.

He'd never come so fucking hard in his life. Ever.

And yet. What was he thinking? This was John. If he messed this up, if he was wrong, if Radek was blowing smoke out his ass, then – but no, this was too important. He had to know. He had to at least ask. If the answer was no, then so be it. They'd get by, somehow. Move past it. Move on. They'd be fine, in the long run.

"Rodney?"

Lost in his tumultuous thoughts, Rodney hadn't heard John come up the corridor behind him. He turned, and his breath caught in his throat. If there had been any doubt left in his mind as to whether or not he was attracted to John, the sight of him in a crisp, white button-down, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his long, lean legs encased in black jeans that hugged his thighs and left little to the imagination as to how well endowed he was, laid every last one of them to rest. That would be a check in the 'attracted to' box, definitely. Rodney's mouth actually watered. He wondered how he'd gone five-plus years not noticing. Idiot.

John shifted his weight, drawing Rodney's eyes away from his crotch and up his torso, the long column of his throat, to his lips (had that divot in his lower lip always been there?), all the way up to the puzzled frown knitting John’s brows.

"Rodney? What are you doing here?"

Rodney swallowed hard as his lust-addled brain finally processed the rest of the picture. John was wearing casual clothes. He had a six-pack of Bud in one hand, and he had been headed to his room. Shit.

"Yeah, I – sorry. Sorry, I should have radioed you. You're expecting someone, aren't you? I'll just –" Rodney backed away, but John moved forward, grabbed his elbow.

"No, I – well, actually, it's kind of funny," John said, looking at the floor, then his door, then back at Rodney. "I just came back from your room, but you weren't there."

"Oh," Rodney said, as something warm, something very like hope, bloomed in his chest and heated his face. "Really?"

"Yeah, so – you want to come in?" John asked.

"God, yes," Rodney said fervently.

John grinned at him, his hand warm on the small of Rodney's back as he ushered him inside.

 

T-20 days

Awkward conversation over with (no, not just friends with benefits, really, and yes, I'm serious, and no, I've never, why didn’t we ever, and yes, I want to, would like you to, yes, please), and nervous first kisses successfully negotiated, Rodney once again found himself lying naked and spread-eagled on his back, their sweat and come drying on his skin, his ass stuffed so fucking, wonderfully full. This time, though, the Inkling had become a Certainty.

 

T-7 days

"Well," Rodney said, fingers tracing the beveled surface of the new ZPM with something approaching reverence. "Shall we?"

Radek nodded, and together they lifted the zero point module and set it in its base, holding their collective breaths as it clicked solidly into place.

It immediately glowed amber. They watched, mesmerized, as the power reading climbed steadily to a full 100%.

"Slava!" Radek breathed, and clapped Rodney on the back.

"That's – that's unbelievably wonderful," Rodney said, grinning from ear to ear.

All around them, scientists and soldiers and support staff cheered, hats were thrown in the air, and hugs exchanged. Champagne flowed yet again, and spirits were high. Soon enough, they would return to a galaxy full of uncertainty and danger, where discovery beckoned, and intrepid civilizations were rebuilding, but for now, this moment, they didn't have a care in the world.

They would laugh, and they would love, and they would simply live.

 

T-1 day

"So? Are we ready?"

General O'Neill looked around the conference table at the Atlantis expedition department heads, his eyebrows raised expectantly. There were more of them this go around, experience dictating they go back to the Pegasus galaxy better prepared, better equipped, more seasoned, with broader mission directives and fewer fetters. Jack was certain that none of the people in this room expected or even desired to return to Earth. They were all, as he had overheard Sheppard telling Daniel this morning, ready to go home.

Lt. Colonel Lorne spoke first. "Military support is ready, sir."

The lanky civilian on Lorne's left spoke next, softly, "Biosciences are also ready, sir."

"As are we, General." Teyla Emmagan, intergalactic diplomatic liaison, smiled at him, and Jack smiled back, bemused.

Beside Teyla, Ronon lounged back in his seat, eyes narrowed. "We've been ready," he growled. And by 'we', Jack understood him to mean the Atlantis special forces he'd been training for off-world security and reconnaissance.

The scientist seated next to Ronon was busy making entries on a data pad, muttering under his breath. Jack cleared his throat. "Dr. Zelenka?"

"Ah. Yes. Science and Engineering is ready. Definitely. Although, we could possibly use...no. I mean yes, we are ready."

"City support staff are ready, sir." This from the motherly Mrs. Reynolds, who was deserting the SGC and taking her recipe for homemade cinnamon buns with her. Jack was still inclined to sulk about that.

The Chief of Stargate Operations, Dr. Campbell, tapped his fingers on the table and nodded, "We're ready."

The new Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Nguyen, gave his trademark shrug and said, "As ready as we'll ever be, I believe. Sir."

And that left Dr. Rodney McKay, who shook his head vehemently. "No, sir. No, General, we are so not ready. We need at least another week in order to be even close to ready. In fact, I think –"

"Rodney," John Sheppard, recently retired USAF colonel and newly elected leader of the Atlantis expedition, interrupted, voice low but steady, and Rodney stopped talking, just like that. Jack wished he could figure out how Sheppard did it.

"So. We're ready, then." Jack said, just to watch McKay's expression. More entertaining than the Simpsons any day of the week.

"Sir," Sheppard said, as close to standing at attention as he could be while sitting down. You could take the man out of the military, but... "I think one more day would be sufficient to put Dr. McKay's mind at ease and make sure we haven't forgotten to leave the key under the mat."

"Dr. McKay?" O'Neill pretended not to see the way McKay's eyes went swiftly to John's face nor the way John's posture relaxed as he smirked at Rodney.

"Yes, that would be – adequate."

Jack narrowed his eyes at the two of them, seated side by side, arms now folded across their chests, wearing identical butter-wouldn't-melt-in-their-mouth expressions, and sighed. Why they hadn't just elected the two of them as joint heads of the expedition, Jack didn't know. He'd heard the suggestion had been floated, but McKay had balked, for reasons known only to himself. Either way, Jack could tell that Sheppard was going to have help making decisions, and that? Was not necessarily a bad thing.

"All right, then, Commander Sheppard. You have a go in T minus 24 hours."

 

T-30 seconds

The control room was buzzing with barely suppressed excitement as the expedition members went about their business like the well-drilled precision unit they had become. The city herself seemed to be pulling at her reins, as if she knew she was being held back at the gate before the last, best race of her life. Lights were brighter; all systems were humming. From his position in the middle of the control room, Rodney was monitoring the sensors and thanking God (and Janus) for the extra ZPMs.

"Dr. McKay?"

John's voice sounded in his ear, in all of their ears, actually, as they were set to citywide communication with the chair room.

"Yes, Commander Sheppard?"

"Are we go for launch?"

"Atlantis colony is go for launch."

"Cool! Care to do the honors, Rodney?"

Like he was going to say no to that.

Thus it began, as so few things in Rodney McKay's life did, with an answer.

"5...4...3...2...1..."

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from a poem of the same name by Mark Slaughter, which begins, 
> 
> "I think I'll journey out some day to wondrous lands afar,  
> Or even chart a journey to a distant blazing star.  
> But rest assured that when my journey begs to take its cue,  
> Always know that when I go, this journey takes you too."
> 
> Thanks so much to the lovely and patient Mischief5 for being such a wonderful beta.


End file.
